Brotherly Quarreling
by Tamer Lorika
Summary: Canada's pissed and Alfred is obnoxious, but throwing out Al's Captain America comics may go too far. Looks like punishment is in order! Written for a fic exchange with noircirichiosa.


**I don't know if this is dumb or something… I've never been very good at these two… in case its confusing, Alfred and Matt are already in an established relationship at the time of this fic. Haha this is the closest thing to crack I've written in a bit. I just can't seem to keep these two serious! I'm sorry if its confusing orz . Written in a fic exchange with noircirichiosa.**

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The beginning of the fight had been stupid.

It was about hockey. Sort of.

So really, that meant it was definitely _not stupid_, or at least Matt thought so, but then again, it was that vein of thinking that began the argument in the first place.

Alfred had been bored. And whiny. And needy. And he had wanted attention. So he started an argument.

"Hockey has got to be just about the most pointless sport _ever_," he announced loudly as Matt had been finishing his lunch of KD and hotdogs.

Matt usually would not let this get to him. However, that morning, Kumamomi had eaten his best pair of socks and they had run out of maple syrup and he was definitely coming down with a cold and to top it all off the night before Alfred had traipsed home, very drunk from being out with Gilbert and Denmark, and he had shouted about aliens until about four-thirty in the morning. So when Alfred had clomped out, off to torture some innocent moose or something as he nursed a hangover, Matt had left his empty bowl on the table and very calmly gone up to Alfred's room. He gathered every single copy of "Captain America" that was stacked in the corner of the American's room and he ripped off every single mint-condition cover and threw them all in the kitchen trash can. And then he went to the bedroom to take a nap, because to be perfectly honest he had gotten absolutely no sleep that night.

The whole "lets take a nap after doing something that will piss of Alfred to the point of homicide" plan was, really, rather poorly thought out. Matthew woke to find the blinds drawn and the room bathed in an artificial dusk.

He was tied up. His hands were above his head, bound to the bedpost. His legs were also bound, rather ingeniously, a rope looped beneath both knees and then drawn up so that it, too was attached to the headboard, spreading his whole body completely open and vulnerable.

He was also naked.

Alfred sat at the foot of the bed, smirking.

"Enjoy your nap, whore?"

Matt blinked the last of the sleep away, a pulse of panic shooting through him. "Alfred, what in the world _is_ this? Untie me!"

"Nope."

Alfred seemed unexpectedly gleeful, but there was a hint of something rather sinister that floated just underneath the surface of his skin.

"I said _untie me!_" ordered Matt, squirming in his bonds. "You are being ridiculous and childish!"

"_I'm_ being childish? You threw out every one of my Captain America comics!" retorted Alfred, kicking off his shoes and kneeling on the bed in front of Matt. The Canadian managed to glare at him, although the effectiveness was diluted considerably due to the fact his was _naked_ and _tied up_.

"Because you were being selfish and obnoxious!"

Suddenly, all of Alfred's grinning swagger was gone, replaced with something rather dangerous. His eyes glinted sharply and he moved to sit right between Matthew's spread legs.

"Be that as it may, it's the winners that write the rules, babe. And this time, I win."

He leaned over Matt and kissed him roughly on the mouth, a signal of dominance only reinforced when he thrust his tongue eagerly inside. Matthew squeaked at the sudden invasion, which only made him open his lips wider, becoming more accommodating for America's tongue.

"Mmp…" Matt mumbled, trying to tell him, in no uncertain terms, to go the fuck away. Unfortunately, it did not turn out quite as planned. Instead, Matt just bit down.

"Jesus Christ!" yelped Alfred, jerking back and slapping his hands onto Matt's chest. "What in the fuck? You really wanna go there?" He wiped at the mouth with the back of his hand. "Ow…"

"Shut up, you big baby. You're not even bleeding."

Alfred mumbled something, but it was lost as he pulled back and hopped off the bed.

"Get back here and let me go, Alfred!" Matt yelled, thoroughly exasperated. "You're – " He trailed off as Alfred reappeared, with something in his hand. Matt's eyes widened. He was _not_ going to –

"Hmm, so you recognize what I've got here?" asked Alfred pleasantly. "Good. So you know what's coming."

The violent pink vibrator clicked on with a _whirr_ and Matt began to jerk against his bonds with a renewed desperation. Alfred smirked at him, leaving the still-vibrating contraption on the bed and pulling out a tube of lube from the same cache beneath the bed that the first gadget had come form. He liberally coated his fingers, thrusting two into Matt without any ceremony. It had not been that long since they had last done this; the fingers slid in easily, but Matt still arched against them, his internal muscles resisting the invasion.

Alfred licked his warm thigh greedily, taking in the faint taste of sweat and arousal. "I think you're ready, right love?"

Matt looked almost panicked as all picked up the vibrator again. "Al… _no_ Al…"

Alfred grinned and pushed it in.

"Ah!" mewled Matt, squirming as he felt oversensitive nerves numb and pulse and he _hated _vibrators, hated the way he felt like he was laid open completely, his whole body shaking as he felt the electricity permeate his veins. He tried to close his legs, to stop what was happening, but the ropes bit into the underside of his knees and he couldn't resist the feeling of being laid bare to Alfred's hungry gaze.

A steady thrum shivered up his thighs, inside his bones, in the deepest, most secret parts of his own body he was _violated_ and Alfred grinned, pushing the vibrator further in, watching him as if he were a doll, a possession, something to be claimed toyed with, something that could be broken and thrown away. Matt could do nothing but let out a high-pitched whine, his dark and desperate blue-violet eyes locked on Alfred's.

"Ha! You _say_ that you don't like this, but your body tells a different story," taunted Alfred, slipping a warm finger around the edge of Matthew's full entrance. It was a lifeline, a solid constant when everything else was shaking apart. He bucked into the light touch. "You're so hard for me, Mattie."

And he was. To Matt's horror, he realized that he was completely erect, his weeping cock standing straight up, begging to be touched. He closed his eyes in shame, but Alfred just smiled, stroking lightly along the shaft.

"Aww, Matt, don't be like that. Look at me. You can't deny how I'm making you feel."

"Alfred…" Matt moaned. "T-take it out. Please. Please, please, take it out." He was begging, he was a mess, just because of one toy, one tiny pulse of electricity and the heat in Alfred's eyes and he was completely undone.

"But this is more fun," said Alfred in response. Again, he stroked Matthew's cock, causing him to twitch and cry out, bucking his hips to get more of the solidity and warmth. Alfred began to stroke in earnest, harder, varying pressure and twisting his palm _ever_ so slightly and –

"Alfred…!" Matt's voice came out in a high moan as his body gave out and he spilled his seed onto Alfred's stroking hand. Immediately, Al removed the pressure, leaving Matt bucking up wantonly into the air as he rode out his orgasm. Alfred kept his eyes locked on his brother's as he licked the come of his hand. Matt's gaze seemed too clouded to notice.

The Canadian lay, panting, on the bed as Alfred removed his restraints, humming his national anthem. Finally, he clicked off the vibrator and removed it with a sharp tug.

"And _that_ is what you get for throwing out my comics," he said in a self-satisfied manner. Matt didn't move, too spent, gasping on the bed.

Alfred retreated to the bathroom to grab some hand lotion and take care of his own glaring hard-on, garnered by watching Matt's bare form squirming so _deliciously_ against the pillows. Matt was vaguely aware of him leaving, not bothering to follow and try to retaliate. Alfred would do that to himself. After all, yesterday, Matt had spent half the morning replacing his hand lotion with Bengay. Al would learn never to leave his dirty socks everywhere.


End file.
